What we have done for ourselves alone dies with us; what we have done for others and the world remains and is immortal."
-Albert Pike

Stepping out of bed his legs aching and soar from basketball practice the night before, he lays in bed trying to escape from the sunrise. His mother is in the hallway performing her morning routines yelling at her eighteen year old like it was his first day of school. Colby stretch across his dresser to smash the snooze button witch is a few hits from destruction. His report card lies on his floor that is covered by his dirty sox and tee shirts. The walls of his room are covered with his and his older brother Jason's jerseys, all baring the number twenty-five. Plax of accomplishments   and letters of expectance fill up the remaining space that the jerseys leave, the ones his...